Metamorphosis
by LM Simpson
Summary: Snowy went to bed a pet one night and woke up as his master. It's time for him to walk a mile or two in Tintin's shoes.
1. 0: Prologue

**Title: **Metamorphosis  
**Author: **LM Simpson (Kady the Red Panda)  
**Pairing(s): **Tintin/Haddock  
**Rating: **M  
**Warning(s): **bodyswap,slash, sexual content, Snowy being innocent sweet bb  
**Disclaimer: **I am not associated with Moulinsart. **  
Other tidbits: **I've been wanting to do this for forever. If I remember right (and now keep in mind I read the book when I was ten or eleven), the novel version of Freaky Friday had the main character and her mother's body switch happen without much explanation.

Oh and short part is short. Sorry.

**Part Zero**

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The first thing I noticed when I woke up that morning was all the colors. Along with the usual black, white and gray I see everyday I saw others I never saw before. I had heard of them before, red, yellow, blue, you name it. Even if I didn't know which one was which I knew that one of them was one or the other. But still, I never actually _saw _them before, until when I woke up in Tintin's bed.

Well, okay. I'm always in Tintin's bed at night. It was something I had done since he first adopted me, when I was a little puppy and afraid of the old newspaper bed he made for me. Feeling his large, warm body against mine as I curled against him helped me doze off to sleep so many times, at first because it reminded me of my mother and my brothers and sisters and later because he was my ever loving master. That morning, however, I woke up with a smaller body to my left. A smaller, white body...

Mine.

I heard Tintin gasping when I opened my mouth. Or, at least, his mouth. Wiry white fur, wet black nose. Snoring with its rump sitting against my side was _me, _right atop the blanket I was under. Well, me in another body other than mine. I knew what one I was in if it wasn't me, yes sirree. It only took me a few moments to confirm it after I moved Tintin's arms from under the pillow my head laid on and wiggled his fingers, then the little ones on his feet. It felt weird, being able to move them on their own, rather than having mine on my paws being influenced by whatever was under them at the time.

The whole time I did this I looked at my sleeping body. Golly, this was weird. Here I was brushing Tintin's head with his fingers all the while watching myself, with my master in my body. As I did this Tintin kicked my little legs, opened my dark eyes, and looked at me. First he appeared startled, just as I was. Tintin opened my mouth and barked once. Then he got up and my short tail went backwards towards my back legs. I heard myself whimpering and my body trembling.

It was bizarre enough watching myself becoming frightened, something I never am because I'm such a brave fellow most of the time. And yet this time, I was frightened as well, and not just because I was seeing myself frightened.

"Tintin-"

I snapped his mouth shut. That word I just said came out so normally; it only felt awkward because I was saying it out of another's mouth. Instead of barking, I was actually talking just like a human being, and talking in _Tintin's _voice at that. So, so weird. Tintin was clearly weirded out too. He clumsily shuffled backwards, still whimpering.

"Tintin," I said again in his voice, his arm instinctively moving towards my body, "I don't know what's going on either. I just woke up as you and I don't know why."

His hand touched my body. It jumped up before relaxing to my touch. Tintin slowly stopped whimpering as he once again clumsily moved towards me again. I found my fur rough, yet soft, such a weird combination. Maybe that was because Tintin made me bathe the night before, but I wasn't too sure then nor cared much at that time. Tintin plopped down and slapped my head against his lap. I continued playing with the fur behind my neck. He whined.

"It's okay, Tintin," I said. "I'm... scared too..."

And I certainly was that. Fear is an emotion I really hate having, but it was necessary then. Being in Tintin's body was weird, but at least I knew who Tintin was. He was my master and he loved me and wouldn't try to harm me when he was in my body. No, what scared me was not knowing why or how I went to sleep as a dog and woke up as a human. Maybe Uncle Cuthbert did something to everyone in their sleep. But I didn't know if he did, or why he would want to do that if he did. It was all so weird to think about.

I heard a knock on the door.

"Breakfast will begin shortly, Mister Tintin," Nestor said.

I sighed. I had no more time to think. Now I had to get up for the day. Here's hoping I don't hurt Tintin in the process...


	2. 1: Morning

**Part One: Morning**

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Tintin and I have a routine every morning. If I was in his body and he in mine, I thought, we would might as well try to make our odd situation as less confusing as possible. Even if it changes somewhat from time to time, a routine is a routine. Routine is familiarity. Familitary is comfort. Comfort is something we're gonna both need for however long this is gonna happen.

I hit my first snag at the first part of Tintin's routine. He always does these weird movements to the radio in his night clothes while I try to keep sleeping on the bed, sofa, or wherever we are before it's breakfast time. I looked at the box for a few minutes and only took my eyes away from it to blink. All I could see besides the black part where I assume the noise came through, a white thing with markings and a moving stick, were two also black doorknobs on the bottom. How did you turn on this thing?

Slowly I placed Tintin's fingers around the one on the left. I twisted the doorknob but heard no noise. When I twisted the other one I heard noise that time, and loud noise at that. People talked loudly and fast as I freaked out trying to shut them up. I mean, I expected noise but Tintin's ears hurt and his heart thumped faster than normal. Tintin, meanwhile, covered my ears and made a noise I recognized as my equivalent of a human grumble.

"S-sorry," I said, moving backwards.

Well, that wasn't going to work. Oh well. I doubt Tintin will lose his ability to fight bad guys after one day of crazy movements. (At least, that's what I think they're for.) Either way, I had to change into new clothes for the day so that I could take Tintin outside for the bathroom. I always find myself have to go right around the time he finishes changing.

Luckily for me Tintin is a bit exact with his things and always sets out a new set of clothing out for the next day. I found it easy to take off his night pants since I just had to pull them down, but I found his night shirt harder because of the buttons. How did he take those off? I played around with one at the very top, next to his neck, but couldn't get it free because it kept sliding out of Tintin's fingers. After a few minutes I gave up and tried to tug the shirt up over his head, just like I had seen with other shirts of his. No, that wouldn't work. Too tight. Finally I decided to just pull at the middle of the shirt and see what would happen. I managed to get out of the shirt, but I also managed to have several buttons fly at the wall, clank against the mirror I was in front of, land on the carpet besides his feet.

Tintin barked. I knew what that bark meant.

"Sorry Tintin," I said again. With me only in his undergarments I picked up his first shirt. At least his day clothes were easier to put on. The only hard part was the zipper thing on his pants, and that was only because I accidentally snagged a teensy bit into his thing. I musta laid down on the floor in pain cupping at the area for, like, forever, before finally getting the strength to redo it successfully. It still hurt a little as I got up and looked at Tintin-myself-in the mirror, but it hurt less with time. His hair needed to be brushed and his clothes readjusted a little, but otherwise it was not bad for my first time putting on clothes, I thought. I turned around so that I could see it at his side. I began to wonder why Tintin began wearing clothes that showed his rump so clearly, but dog barking stopped me.

Getting down the stairs like a human was weird, especially having to hold onto the side to make sure I didn't break Tintin's neck in the process, but I managed to do it without even a misstep. Tintin, if the noises he was making showed anything, showed that he was nervous to do the same thing as a dog, but he handled it like a champ too. That's my master!

I'd rather not talk about my bathroom habits (even a dog has its moments of privacy) but Tintin handled that like a champ too. He was more modest than I, though, and hid into a bush so well I didn't see him for a few moments. When he finished he wagged my short tail with relief and we went back inside to eat.

(I did trip up one of the stairs that time, the one two steps up from the bottom one. Luckily Tintin's butt broke the fall. It fared better than the other part I hurt earlier.)

We both sniffed our dishes after we got them. I watched Tintin sniff at the wet food in my special dish he bought for me when he first adopted me. Then he cautiously nibbled at the very top of the food pile and seemingly thought over how my food tasted before diving in for a second, bigger bite.

"Are you alright, lad?"

I looked at the voice's direction. I nodded, nervously laughed so that I could think of something good. "Why, yes, Captain. What makes you think I'm not?"

"Um... Nothing really. You just look a little..." He tapped his finger against his chin. "I don't know what's the word? Off? You look like you're drooling over Snowy's food like one of Pavlov's dogs."

Whoops. Whoever Pavlov was I don't know. I guess he was someone important in the human world. But that wasn't important.

I shook Tintin's head. "Oh no! I'm perfectly fine! I, uh, just want to make sure he likes his breakfast, that's all! Really!"

If the captain bought it he didn't really look like it. I stared at the plate in front of me. I saw the human version of kibble, toast, on the plate along with looked like eggs and-

"Ooh! Bacon!"

Not as scrumptious and as wonderful as a good quality bone but delicious none the less. I only ate bacon a few times but when I did eat it was so good. I energetically engorged myself on the strips without much a thought of how anyone would think of me...

...Until I looked up and saw Captain Haddock staring back at me with his coffee cup holding hand hovering near his mouth. I noticed that Tintin's fingers were greasy, as were his lips.

"... Are you _sure_ you don't need to lie down or something?"


	3. 2: Afternoon

A/N: Awkward chapter is awkward chapter.

**Part Two: Afternoon**

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Golly I was so full after that wonderful breakfast. My favorites were the meats, and I ate from not only Tintin's plate but also the Captain's and the Professor's when Uncle Cuthbert never showed up. I guess he was too busy doing strange things in his laboratory to go eat. I hope he didn't mind. As much as I loved them I still had a horrible stomachache afterward, probably from how much I ate.

I wanted to sleep but at the same time I knew that if I was going to stick to a routine I should what Tintin did. Tintin, as far as I know, hadn't gone out to go to his job all day for a couple of years but he did have a letter making machine that he used a lot. The way he tapped on the keys to make a rhythm was like music to my ears, plus he usually looked like he had such fun with it. I wanted to play too.

I turned the doorknob and entered my master's office on the second floor. Right atop a desk to the left of the room was the letter making machine in all its shiny black metal glory. Excitedly I found a sheet of paper, played around with the sheet looking for the right slot to put the paper in, found it and put it in, and flapped around Tintin's fingers with anticipation.

Then, I realized something. I couldn't type. I couldn't even read, save for my name. And even then, that was only because Tintin wrote it down on my personal bowl, and my collar tag when I had to wear one. Otherwise I depended on my five senses and my animal instinct to figure out my way through the world. How was I gonna type enough words to craft a proper letter?

"Wait..." Tintin's hand hit the top of his head, and I grunted. "Who cares? I get to play with this thing now!"

I moved the chair aside. Standing over the desk I pressed random keys. I liked seeing each letter, even if I had no idea what it meant, pressed into the paper with ink with a "ding" sound. Music to my ears, indeed.

I was busy making noise for about a minute when suddenly the machine stopped. No matter which key I pressed it wouldn't budge. No wonderful "ding' sound but a clicking sound.

"Oh no..." I moved backwards, hand against closed mouth. What if I had broken the thing? Or did I do something wrong? Was I supposed to make real words and not random ones? If I did break it would Tintin be able to fix it, or would he be angry enough at me to not play with a chew toy tomorrow? Or, at least, if we ever went back to our real bodies again? My heart was just about to stop as I became more and more afraid with each question popping into my mind.

"Perhaps... a nap would do me some good after all..."

Yes, yes. A nap. Which was fine anyway I guess because I didn't really have an idea what Tintin did right after playing with his toy.

I tried sitting on Tintin's bed with his clothes on but I didn't like how tight they were against his body as I tried to close his eyes and sleep. After a few minutes of rearranging my position and the clothes getting in the way I decided to shed some to get more comfortable. It surprised me that Tintin's pants were easier to remove than to take off. The zipper thing scared me because of how much it hurt when it snagged Tintin's thing earlier, so I didn't bother moving it again. I just pushed the pants down with all my strength and it fell down right above Tintin's feet. I felt okay at the upper half of his body so I kept his shirt on.

But I still couldn't sleep. I closed my eyes and opened them over and over. Tintin's eyes were still weary and his stomach still hurt a little bit. But I just couldn't sleep. How annoying.

Then my mind went back to what if Tintin and I were going to be in these bodies for longer than today. As far as I knew there was a good chance that Tintin's body was going to be my own body forever. Freaky as the thought was it was still a possibility. If that was the case then I should've at least got myself a little more familiar with this body while I was alone.

First I took the covers off. Then I took Tintin's-"my"- fingers onto his feet and the little fingers on them. The foot fingers moved up and down inside the hand fingers's grasp. How weird, but cool at the same time. Upwards my hands went then, up the feet (the bottoms covered with rough patches, the tops smooth), and then the legs. The sparse hair on them matched the color of the hair on his head, but felt different at the same time. Maybe it was because it was less than what was on his head. I don't know.

I was particularly fascinated with the thing between the legs. Like the legs themselves there was hair surrounding it when I pulled the shorter pants down, only it was slightly darker and much curlier than either the leg or head hair. I wondered also why human things were not tucked inside their bodies like it was with mine, or any other male animals I have encountered. Perhaps that was why humans wore clothes-for protection that Mother Nature robbed them.

I left my thinking mode and went back to exploring the short, chubby thing surrounded by curly hair. Then, the more I touched the soft skin the thing went from short and chubby and longer and slender...er. It got a little stiffer too, but not rock hard. I watched in fascination as it grew larger the more I touched it, until it got as big as it ever would be in my mind. It began oozing something that resembled water, but thicker.

I looked down and just stared, thinking of what I should do. Obviously it was natural. I had done it before... once. When I was about a year old and when Tintin scolded me after catching me in the act. I felt shame but at the same time wished to keep exploring. I never finished so I didn't know how this ended.

Perhaps I was supposed to lick it. Holding the thing with one hand I tried to lower my mouth towards it. No matter how hard I forced it down I couldn't even get the tip of my tongue against it. Maybe that was why humans took baths, too-they couldn't lick themselves clean either.

Back to hand rubbing then. The longer it stayed like that the more I wanted to touch it. Not only did it feel wonderful but I felt like I had to keep doing it. I closed my eyes and let my mind wander as I kept stroking. I began to picture a bitch, a good looking female dog, one that was ready to be taken by me, who was back in my true terrier form. I rubbed even harder as I imagined the things I would do with that bitch, lovey dovey things to make her happy and then mating to make me (and hopefully also her) happy. As this went on I went even harder than I thought I could ever be as my thoughts progressed...

...Until I heard the door open. All thought instantly stopped as I let go and looked in horror at not only Tintin barking at me but also a darkened faced Captain Haddock.

"Oh, my! I am so sorry, Captain!" I yelled, throwing the sheets back over me.

Instead of getting angry at me, to to my surprise, the captain fought a naughty looking smile, then a naughty sounding laugh. He crossed his arms against his chest and leaned against the door panel.

"Are you trying to give me a teaser of what we're going to do after our date tonight, you naughty lad?"

_A date? What's a date?_


	4. 3: Evening A

A/N: I'm extending the fic by one chapter.

**Part Three: Evening A**

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I didn't even dare ask the captain what a date was after he said it. Tintin would've known if he and him were supposed to have one; why would Tintin be so dumb to forget what one was? My master is the smartest human there is, no ands, ifs, or buts about it.

I also didn't want to ask the captain why he kissed me after acting so naughty and weird. I never saw it happen between other humans before. Was it a sign of aggression? Probably not, because he seemed to find it so funny. I mean he giggled afterwards before saying goodbye. But maybe I would find out during this date thing.

It was a few hours later and getting dark. I was in the bed again after a walk and other things I found quite pointless and not so fun. Why didn't Tintin get to use his toys so often? He must be fighting so hard not to go crazy because he has things like discussing bill things with the captain and needing to call the repairman when the TV broke while we were watching it with Uncle Cuthbert each and every day.

Looking down I saw Tintin in my body seemingly about to lick himself. Seemingly, because he seemed to hesitate whenever my tongue seemed to dip out of my mouth.

"You can do it, Tintin," I said to a master trying so hard to fight my instincts. "It's fine with me. It's good for a quick clean before a bath. Which I do like, by the way, but just maybe once a month or so. Would that be fine, if we ever..."

I didn't want to finish that sentence. Too much thinking about the unknown today as it was. But at least what I said seemed to make Tintin feel better enough to finally begin licking himself-myself-clean. Then when he was done he went over to his drawers and tried scraping my paws up against the littler doors on it.

Moving out I went towards him. He wagged my tail as I placed a hand towards the top little drawer. Then he barked. I took it as a signal to open the door. Taking out a shirt made him bark with a hint of growl in it. I threw it aside, not sure how to put the falling out of its folds clothes back in properly. We repeated this until a happy bark approved of a shirt in my hands.

"What is it Tintin? You want me to wear this?"

A wag and a bark. Tintin apparently tried to nod too. Then he scratched my claws against a door again. We did this over and over again, barking and tail wagging indicating whether to throw it onto the bed or floor or to wear it, until we had a full suit. It was familiar to me. I had seen Tintin wear this sort of outfit many times when he made me stay home so he could do something with someone, usually the captain. Oh what boring nights they were. Oh well. Now I was finally going to find out what happened when he dressed into this outfit.

Wait... maybe this is what you wore on a date? This was going to be interesting.

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Already I seemed to be getting more and more used to putting on human clothing. This time I didn't accidentally jam the zipper thing into Tintin's thing. No pain over there at all. The captain only needed to remind me to brush my hair and had to help me with all my buttons when he told me I needed to redo them.

"Are you sure you want to go on our date tonight?" Captain asked me after creaking the door open. He appeared concerned about something.

"Oh yes! I'm very ready, Captain! Let's go!"

Apparently Tintin normally drove, as when I got to the car the captain said something about that he would rather drive tonight. Oh well, whatever. I couldn't drive anyway. Might as well have Captain drive or else we would die in the process of me trying to get to wherever I didn't even know we were supposed to go anyway.

We drove off to a place that I used to live at what seemed a long time ago. Brussels, I think it's called. Tintin and I lived in an apartment run by two people named after a bird (even though we only saw the man's mate). We didn't go to the old flat but rather a restaurant. Even with Tintin's poorer sense of smell I could still whiff beef and baking bread coming from inside and it smelled scrumptious.

"Ooh! Are we going in there? Let's go in there!" I said, skipping with glee towards the building after leaving the captain's car.

Captain appeared unsure of how to react at first before letting out a laugh. "Yes, lad. We're going in there. Now what do you want to drink? I'm thirsty for some good aged wine myself."

I think I had wine before. Probably, probably not. But whatever alcohol I've had has always tasted good after the first drink.

"Yeah, that sounds-"

I cocked my head away from the captain and towards the female humans behind him, females with sunglasses and high heels and dresses. I wasn't paying most of my attention towards them-I don't have an opinion as to whether humans look good or bad-but I did find the bitches on leashes held by the females quite stunners. Neither were icky poofy poodles, but rather terriers like myself-one Cairn and the other Airedale. Their coats and dark eyes shone like the jewels they probably were.

I thought I heard the captain saying something, but instead I blurted something out of my own. I regretted it as soon as I said it.

"Wow! Those are some fine looking bitches!"

I regretted saying this, because apparently human girls do not like being called bitches (if they thought it was being targeted towards them). They walked past the captain with anger in their faces before taking their purses and handbags with their non leash holding hands and swung them at me. They began pummeling me and calling me different animal names. "Dog!" was one. "Pig!" was another. Can't remember the others. But I remember that their hits and their names hurt me.

"Hey! Hey hey hey!" The captain said, breaking them away from me. "Now wait just a minute! Knowing Tintin he was probably just talking about your dogs, not you primped up poodles!" He turned to face me and said, "Is that right lad?"

I nodded. Captain cast the girls, lovely bitches and all, away. I quickly forgot about them as the beef and bread smell became even more empowering as we walked inside.

Unlike during the morning I managed to fight the urge to eat with my hands. Instead I watched other humans eating with instruments: pointed ones, ones with circular ends, ones with multiple pointed ends. Why humans didn't eat with their hands was beyond me at first. Yeah, I could see that the one point instruments could be used to cleanly tear apart something (what appeared to be steak when I read, but my doggie teeth could rip anything apart as long as it was tough, soft, or easy to chew. Running his tongue through Tintin's teeth I noticed how most of them were dull and flat not pointy like mine. That would explain the pointy instrument. Poor humans-they're so poorly equipped they have to make their own objects to do jobs I could do by myself.

"Tintin!"

I looked back at the captain and his clear eyes. He held a glass full of the wine the restaurant's butler gave us.

"Yes?"

"Is something bothering you, my lad?"

"Uh... No."

"Hmm. Well you seem even more pensive than usual. You do know that you can tell me whatever is chewing you up, correct?"

"Uh... Yeah?"

He put his cup down before filling mine halfway with wine.

"Thanks... Captain."

"No problem," he said while giving me my glass. I held it right where the stem met with the glass cup part. I almost put it against my lips and took a swig when he snapped:

"Blistering barnacles, lad! Even I can wait long enough to toast first!"

"...Oh."

I copied Captain's moves to follow the toast ritual.

"May tonight be good for business." He moved two fingers up and down with his free hand. "'Business.'"

"Uh... Right. May tonight be good for business, and business every other day."

We clacked glasses. I hit my glass hard enough that wine stained the white tablecloth under our glasses.

The captain sighed. "Don't bother. We'll let the waiter take care of it. Let's just continue having our fun, shall we?"


End file.
